


the planet which circles the sun

by MercuryMirror



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Loss, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Stream of Consciousness, nobody is happy, rip iruka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:04:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22888150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryMirror/pseuds/MercuryMirror
Summary: A year is a long time, and some pain never fades.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka
Comments: 11
Kudos: 35





	the planet which circles the sun

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta, Rouge for the editing. Despite insistence, this will not be entitled "Loss.JPEG", "Loss.PDF", or anything along those lines. If you see any mistakes, please mention them in the comments.

There’s a photograph, face down on his bedside table. It’s been like that for a year now. He looks at it sometimes, still, even though it hurts. He’s always more reckless on missions after the long nights he spends staring at the frozen smiles, his self-recrimination burning like acid.

|

The monument is a dark mark against the sky, a sink of grief. Names carved in neat rows, impersonal. Thank you for the service you have provided. Thank you for dedicating your life to us. Thank you for feeding our dirt with the blood of our enemies. Flowers are left at its base, as an offering, in remembrance. They wither and die as well, death upon death. He’s logged hours of memories set in this clearing, tracing the characters of the names of the people he loved. _He had told him, when they had begun, that everyone he loved died. His lover, so bright and bold, had laughed, informing him of his intent to never go anywhere, and that he loved him too. (But everything was a lie, but how were they to know shinobi are told and trained to expect the unexpected but we stopped and when it came because karma fate whatever you have it is a bitch and when had he ever been free from suffering and having the good things taken away)._

Statistically, his lover had been the safest of them all. While a shinobi, also a teacher, and moulding lives had suited him better than taking them. He wondered if ~~Iruka~~ _don’t think his name it hurts too much don’t tear at the scab_ would have had the same lively eyes, the same expressive face, were he trained like he himself had been. The friendly face that insidiously became a supporting pillar of the Village, once torn away, caused a partial collapse as people realised exactly how far the chūnin’s influence had reached.

Within the year that the village had been slowly recovering from the blow that had turned out to be far more devastating than it should have been, no one had looked at him askance, trying to assess his emotional state. No one asks him how he feels about it, if anything’s wrong. After all, as far as the vast majority of the village knows, he had no reason to be affected. Not that anyone would notice, wrapped up in their own grief as they are, as little as he feels it compares to his own. They weren’t the ones who had allowed the blooming vines of love to ensnare them, tangling the two irreversibly together, the trellis upon which it grew. Who had filled the empty spaces with brilliant and bursting blooms of adoration and joy. They weren’t the ones with the cold metal of a ring burning a hole in their pocket, a constant reminder _for that all he’s the great copy-nin, master of a thousand jutsu, an S-ranked ninja, he’s a damnable coward_. The ones who would never find the answer to a question that had burnt in his mind for months.

|

His student _former now already surpassed me so young and they called me a genius_ approaches him, the customary orange _he had never been able to get rid of it, simply ridiculous such a bright colour didn’t hinder his ability to hide from high level shinobi but then hiding is so very much not his style_ in no way lending light to the expression of deep misery etched across his young features. He remembers, suddenly that _of course there was someone at least as affected as me he saw him as a father-_ but is able to force to the fore a casual wave, his customary greeting. Naruto will not look him in the eye. He thinks, that if they did, they would both shatter, attempt to use each other as pillars only to drown in a tide that will never stop rising. Naruto has always been capable of feeling more intensely than anyone else, after all, for all he uses this ability for love and joy and empathy. He is not greeted in return, but his acknowledgement has served as the beginning of the interaction. 

“Me an’ Hinata were, well- no one ever went through his stuff. And it’s been- a year now. And we have to. So. Uh. Yeah.”

He smiles, a barely visible little thing with no real positive emotion behind it _just feels like what he should do they need some sort of comfort but I’m not the right person please don’t notice I’m breaking apart but I’m sure you already know_. He is unsure where Naruto is heading with this, what he’s trying to do. Rubbing salt into wounds isn’t his style, though he is clumsy and often trips over still-raw gashes. He’s glad Naruto has Hinata, who he can see quietly lurking in the background, though this hurts too. The one he took comfort from in such a manner is dead now. Gone for a year, and doesn’t that just astound? He himself is still alive, but at what cost? He’s discovered, for himself, the pain doesn’t end, and none of the ones he lost before were his lover, the man he would have married were it not for his own nerves and self-doubts and one horrible, tragic occurrence.

Naruto begins after collecting himself slightly, though it’s doubtful either of them will remain that way for however long this conversation will last, and almost certainly once they’re out of the public eye they’ll break down again, seeing the suffering someone else in such a similar position _he had called them his most precious people_.

“We uh, made a box for you. Cause you probably have more claim to some stuff,” that’s the closest allusion to his relationship that had been made, and that probably ever would be _in his lifetime at leas_ t, “but this couldn’t wait for the rest of it. Here.” A small package is shoved into his chest, a fabric bag concealing what Naruto hunted him down for. He thinks, in a distant corner of his brain that isn’t focused on the package, that Naruto is trying his best to glare at him in passionate anger and defence of his own precious people, but the edge is dulled by the raw grief he contains. He leaves, before Naruto has to. He didn’t have anything to do anyway.

|

He goes home. Where else can he go? A tree is hardly the best place for having emotions, and he might get dragged into T&I for having them in public. He sits on his couch, and tried to ignore the afterimages of a thousand domestic scenes – _marking laughing touching kissing mock anger relief the emotions are too much his system will break-_ and opens the soft bag without fanfare.

A box drops out.

He’s lauded as a prodigy, hailed as a genius. He knows what will be in this box. After all, did he not buy a similar one over a year ago, an eternity ago?

At least his question- _would he had said yes_ is answered. He is unsure if knowing is better, now he knows of the possibilities he’s lost.

He opens the box, and takes the cold metal ring out.

|

Those with family, or people who care about them enough and have the money, have graves. These are more personalised than just a name carved in stone, and usually there are bodies fertilising the earth beneath the stone slabs. People tend to have more emotions at graves, and are more enthusiastic about visiting them due to the more personalised nature, which is why he’s tried to avoid it _should have known he would force him to face all his issues at one point or another his walls might as well have been cardboard when it came to him_. They are all destined to die, and as a shinobi the greatest way to die was for Konoha. They had been lucky, and then not so lucky. The death had been completely random. This is why he reads. In a well-written story, there is foreshadowing. The more analytical reader can work out what is going to happen before it does, put together the clues for the whole picture. He is rarely surprised by plot twists, and tends to enjoy books for their writing, not their plots. He finds the grave he came here for, and carefully brushes away the leaves that have fallen on it since someone else completed the action last.

When he leaves, there is a cold metal ring on the cold stone of the grave. While it may be warmed by the sun, it will never taste the body heat of the one it was intended for.

|

It’s a long time until he dies. He knew ~~_Iruka_ ~~he wouldn’t want him to squander his life meaninglessly, would want him to live it to its full conclusion, and so he does. He is an old man, and the pain of his loss never fades, never dulls. When they prepare his body for the funeral _a much loved Kage, a skilled warrior an S-ranked shinobi, war hero taught the saviour_ they find, attached to the same chain that holds his dog tags, a metal ring. It rests on the skin above his heart, and would have been warmed by his body heat. Now, though, it’s just a cold piece of metal.

|

His name is not on the Memorial Stone, but it is on the grave marker he is buried beneath. It is discovered that the Rokudaime has had a place for the final rest of his body prepared for decades. It is next to a grave marker, which despite being there for decades, is still perfectly maintained. _Umino Iruka_ has been dead for a long time, but it is obvious that he was deeply loved by someone.

|

Time turns on, taking its toll, and the carved words of the twin graves are erased from the rock they were hewn in, and together Hatake Kakashi and Umino Iruka fade.


End file.
